WHEN YOU ARE OLD

When you are old and gray and full of sleep

And nodding by the fire, take down this

book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows

deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace

And loved your beauty with love false or

true;

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead,

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.